


Pulp Fiction

by SinpaiCasanova (Bladerunnerblue)



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Butt Plugs, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Subspace, Top Steve Rogers, Vampire Bites, Vampire Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bladerunnerblue/pseuds/SinpaiCasanova
Summary: The little voice in the back of Bucky's head is screaming at him to run for the hills, or at the very least, stand his ground and fight, because right now, something unnatural is stalking him, silently waiting in the dark of his apartment for the opportune moment to strike. And Bucky, God help him, is about to hand it over on a silver platter.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 13
Kudos: 142





	Pulp Fiction

**Author's Note:**

> Potential trigger warning ⚠️  
> The venom in Steve’s bite acts a lot like MDMA for Bucky, so if you're sensitive to drug-related content this may not be your cup of tea.

Sometimes, Bucky isn't always certain the life he now leads isn't just some elaborate fever dream his traumatized mind conjured up in a fit of desperation, grasping onto bits of his old life and mashing them together into a false sense of reality made to soothe his battered soul. To Bucky, the story of his life reads like a pulp fiction novel with far too many angsty plot twists. First, there was the war that quite literally killed him, then the shit-storm that was Hydra, then Steve suddenly popping back up after seventy-five years with a Bucky-shaped hole in his heart and an ax to grind, swooping in like a fanged white-knight to kick Hydra’s ass and save his distressed damsel that had no clue who he even was.

It's a little surreal, looking back on all that he's endured to get to where he is now, and though he'll hardly admit as much to Steve, half the time he expects to wake up still strapped to Zola's table, babbling his service number to an empty room. Of course, in the back of his mind, Bucky has enough sense to know that isn't the case, no matter how bizarre the story becomes.

Although, if Bucky really thinks about it, he certainly can’t say that being married to a vampire is the strangest thing that’s ever happened to him. Not when space whales and giant purple aliens exist. Though, calling Steve a vampire might be the wrong word for what he actually is, since Steve isn’t the creature of the night Bram Stoker originally had in mind.

For one, Steve isn’t vulnerable to things like silver, garlic, or sunlight. And while ramming a stake through his heart would certainly kill him--as it would with anyone, really--it has no correlation whatsoever to Steve’s condition. The way Steve explained it--first in 1943 when he pulled Bucky out of that factory in Kreischberg, and again in 2014 because Hydra scrapped that particular memory right out of his skull, and seeing Steve with fangs and glowing eyes rightfully scared the shit out of him--was that a miscalculation on Stark’s end caused the serum to mutate once it was exposed to high levels of vitarays, rather than the gamma radiation Zola used to transform Bucky into the Winter Soldier. 

Erskine’s serum actually killed Steve while he was changing within the pod, but he didn’t stay dead for long, and when the pod finally opened, he emerged as a new creature, both stronger and faster than even Bucky when Lukin had him hopped up on military-grade stimulants. But there’s a serious problem. Steve’s serum acts more like a virus than the miracle enhancement formula Erskine said it would be. Indeed, it did what it was advertised to do, but at the same time, it also destroys Steve’s red blood cells at a faster rate than his body can replenish them. Hence the fangs, neuro-altering venom, and the insatiable cravings for blood. 

Strangely, his body seems to be able to process the much-needed components in donor blood a hell of a lot better through ingestion rather than using blood transfusions, so naturally, the serum adapted Steve to do just that. 

Though, it was quite a shock for both of them to find out that Steve becomes particularly ravenous for Bucky’s serum-enhanced blood. It might be that his blood is more capable of satisfying Steve’s needs than that of an ordinary human, or it could just be an extension of Steve’s hunger for all things Bucky Barnes, but either way, it’s a hell of a feeling to have Steve’s teeth sink through his skin like a hot knife through butter, pumping him full of pleasure-inducing venom as he feeds--fucking Bucky until he’s nothing more than a limp, quivering mass of fuck-drunk happy too sated to even blink on his own accord. 

Bucky can’t seem to get enough of it, and thankfully, neither can Steve.

Even now, Bucky feels the unmistakable warmth of a blush spreading across his cheeks at the mere thought of it. It’s that possessive, unbreakable grip Steve has on his neck when his teeth graze Bucky’s heated skin, how his wet tongue laps almost playfully at the blood welling up to the surface after that first intoxicating bite. It’s the predatory growl in Steve’s throat as he feeds, the wanton moan that crawls out of his own parted mouth when he submits himself to Steve. It’s the hedonistic hunger for sex that consumes them, the raw need for intimacy that drives them. It’s everything they never thought it could be, and so much more.

Unfortunately for him though, Bucky hasn’t felt the mind-numbing bliss of Steve's mouth on his neck for the past two weeks since Fury’s had him on clean-up duty with Nat and Clint; tying up a few loose ends with a well-placed bullet or two. Steve, of course, had to stay at the tower in case any catastrophes of the world-ending variety occurred in the interim, because alien invasions tend to have the worst possible timing, and Fury didn't want his two best fighters halfway across the globe when they decided to pop in for another visit.

Steve wasn’t happy about it, but then again, he never was when Fury pulled rank on him like that, leveling him with calm, indisputable reason when all Steve wanted was a fight. The fact that the mission required deep shadow conditions--meaning no outside contact to anyone not deemed essential to mission success--only compounded the issue tenfold, because not only could they not see each other for two whole weeks, they also had to endure total radio silence until Bucky could safely return home, which, seeing as he just stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway that leads to their private floor in Stark Tower, would be any second now.

The apartment is dark and eerily quiet when Bucky pushes the front door open, which isn’t as alarming to him as it really should be, considering the circumstances. By now, Bucky’s intimately familiar with how vehemently Steve’s body reacts to his prolonged absence because, while it’s true that Steve is brilliant in many diverse ways, he’s still a stubborn jackass that absolutely refuses to feed on anything other than Bucky, despite the repercussions he knows all too well about.

It’s in times like this, when Steve hasn’t fed as frequently as his body requires, that he fully becomes the terrifying predator the serum ultimately intended him to be. The very same monster Steve’s been trying like hell to repress ever since. 

With that in mind, Bucky doesn’t bother to announce his presence when he steps over the threshold or calls out for Steve when he softly closes the door behind him as he’d normally do. Bucky already knows that Steve is here with him, lurking in the shadows of their apartment like a lion stalking its prey in the tall grass. Bucky can feel his presence in the air around him, heavy and suffocating in the most intoxicating way. If Bucky were to look hard enough--allow his serum-enhanced vision to pierce through the dark rather than play along and try to pretend that Steve isn’t there at all--he could probably detect the telltale iridescence that circles Steve’s eyes when the bloodlust starts to take over. And he should, really, but Bucky doesn’t want to shatter the illusion of helplessness he’s offering up to Steve like a gift, because that’s exactly what it is in the end. A facade. A lie. A fantasy. 

Bucky’s body is far too attuned to his surroundings for Steve to actually get the drop on him, and they both know that, but still, sometimes it’s nice to pretend that Bucky’s some dainty little snack wandering straight into the jaws of a hungry monster, helpless, petrified, and completely at the mercy Steve never actually gives him.

Bucky sighs through his nose at the almost imperceptible sound of nails scratching against the drywall, and he can picture it, then--Steve effortlessly climbing up the walls like the waking nightmare he is; watching Bucky’s every move with eyes so sharp he can see the heat radiating off of Bucky’s body in waves.

Bucky can hardly believe it’s true when he stops to think about it, but it’s really no secret that Steve’s senses are far more enhanced than Bucky’s, especially when he gets like this, so much so that he probably heard Bucky coming long before he ever stepped foot out of the elevator. Steve’s night vision is something torn right out of a science fiction novel as well, thanks in part to the tapetum the serum saw fit to give him, along with a dual set of fangs both sharper than a scalpel and strong enough to punch through bone. And it should be terrifying, knowing that there’s a predator in this room he chooses not to see, but surprisingly, it isn’t. Despite what he’s become, this is still  _ Steve _ , and Steve would never hurt Bucky in ways he didn’t beg for. This is just a game they’re playing, and Bucky’s fully aware of that, but still, the palpable weight of unseen eyes on his skin has the hair on the back of Bucky’s neck standing on end; the plates of his arm noisily shifting in preparation for a battle Bucky will purposely lose the moment it starts.

The little voice in the back of Bucky's head is screaming at him to run for the hills, or at the very least, stand his ground and fight, because right now, something unnatural is stalking him, silently waiting in the dark of his apartment for the opportune moment to strike. And Bucky, God help him, is about to hand it over on a silver platter. 

He lets out a slow breath through pursed lips and wills his muscles to relax as he deliberately turns his back to the unseen presence that’s probably plastered to the ceiling above him like an overgrown spider, casually setting down his duffle bag and toeing off his shoes before locking the front door up tight. He can hear the breathy, delighted chuckle that Steve lets out when he keeps his back exposed to the room behind him, letting himself be vulnerable to Steve's inevitable attack rather than fighting against it as any sane person would. But thankfully, Steve doesn’t wait more than a few seconds to make his move once Bucky’s guard is deliberately put down, greedily taking advantage of the opportunity without an ounce of hesitation, which is a testament to just how famished Steve’s become in his absence. Poor thing.

It’s a relief when he feels a strong hand tangle into the back of his hair, mussing up his bun beyond repair as he’s bodily shoved face-first into the wall beside the door frame. There’s a solid wall of muscle pressing along the length of his spine and lips spread wide in a feral grin at his ear, and Bucky, despite the sharp pain that’s blooming along the cut of his jaw and pricking at his scalp, can’t help but sigh wantonly at the attention he’s finally being given. It’s been weeks since he’s felt Steve’s particular brand of aggressive affection, and  _ God _ has he missed it something fierce.

Judging by the little purr he feels vibrating against his back like Steve’s just an overgrown cat and not a bloodthirsty fiend about to swallow him whole, Steve’s missed it just as much, if not more.

“What’s this? The notorious Winter Soldier willfully caught off his guard?” Steve muses in a voice that feels like a mouthful of whiskey; smooth and rich on his tongue, yet burns like fire on the way down his throat. Bucky can’t help but shiver. “I should feel insulted--but how can I be when you give it up so easily?”

“Figured you’d want an easy meal, Sweetheart.” Bucky laughs a bit breathlessly because of course Steve would still want to play with his food before he actually tears into it, regardless of how grumpy he gets when he’s  _ this _ hungry. “Ready to eat, no prep required.”

“Mmm...Is that so?” Steve’s chest rumbles with what sounds like a pleased growl at that, and the little kiss he presses to the shell of Bucky’s ear has his knees threatening to buckle before Steve’s even done much of anything to him. The hand in his hair yanks unkindly, forcing his head to whip back and expose the delicate curve of his throat. And in an instant, heat spreads from the pit of his gut to the base of his cock, wrapping loosely around the fattening shaft like fingers when Steve runs the length of his tongue from the hinge of his jaw to the lobe of his ear; tasting his meal before he takes the first bite. Bucky can hardly wait for it, but he knows in the back of his mind that that’s exactly what Steve’s gonna make him do, because, at his core, Steve’s a power-hungry asshole that loves to watch Bucky squirm like a worm on the end of a hook. 

Bucky, of course, never disappoints.

“Go on then. See for yourself.” Bucky goads, shameless as ever. His hands haven’t moved from where they’re braced against the wall yet, mostly because Steve hasn’t told him he could. Besides, if Bucky even tries to escape at this point, he knows he’ll just end up on his back with Steve's teeth in his neck. Steve will suck him dry and fuck his ass full no matter what he does to spur it on, but tonight, Bucky’s far too impatient to fight back, so he’ll give it up without a fuss and be grateful for whatever he gets from Steve in return. It's not like it's a hardship anyway when the thing he gets is a mind-numbing orgasm or two. 

Steve’s freehand slides from where it's braced against the wall to the front of Bucky’s jeans, making Bucky take their combined weight with a grunt as he pops the button free and slides the calloused pad of his thumb across the smooth mound of pubic bone he knew would be there. Bucky hardly ever wears underwear around Steve anymore, unless the occasion calls for it. He’s lost many a good pair to the greed of Steve’s hands and teeth, shredding them like wrapping paper to get to the succulent prize waiting for him inside. Frankly, the fact that Bucky’s going commando after a mission isn’t exactly a surprise to Steve at this point. The faint scent of rubber and lubricant Steve catches when he opens the front of Bucky’s jeans, however, is.

_ “Oh,” _ Steve breaths, sounding utterly delighted as he slips his hand down the back of Bucky’s pants, pausing once his fingers meet the wet, flared base of the plug Bucky’s wearing especially for the occasion, because, after two weeks of nothing but silence and longing, Bucky isn’t sure either of them can stand to wait much longer than strictly necessary, prep be damned.

”All this for little ol’ me, huh?”

“You know it is, Stevie.” Bucky counters, because Steve’s well aware of the effect he has on Bucky by now. How there isn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do to please Steve. Bucky’s not sure if his own demented reactions to it ultimately make things that much worse, but really, after everything he’s endured thus far, he’s long past caring about how fucked up the inner machinations of his mind truly are. 

“ _ Mmm _ ...you’re so eager for it, aren’t you baby? Walking around all wet and open for me, smelling like a dream and tasting even better. How could I possibly refuse such an enticing little sacrifice?” Steve’s grin widens against the side of Bucky’s throat as his fingers close around the end of the plug, giving the toy a gentle tug that has Bucky’s ass clenching around it to suck it back in.

_ “Steve, please!”  _ Bucky whines pitifully, pressing his ass back against Steve’s hand and tilting his head  _ oh so invitingly _ to the side as Steve continues to toy with the plug; tugging just enough to pop out the fat end of it before pushing it right back in. Fucking him with it at a torturously slow pace that’ll have Bucky going mad in a heartbeat if he keeps this up. Why Steve hasn’t bitten into him yet is well beyond his comprehension at the moment, but Steve isn’t the only one with a gifted mouth, and Bucky’s more than willing to use his silver tongue to get what he wants. 

_ “Mm _ \--I know you’re hungry, baby,” He rasps, moaning like the most wanton of whores when Steve gives the end of the plug a particularly rough thrust, nearly whiting out his vision for a second when the tip rubs against his prostate. ”You remember how good I taste, huh? How sweet I am on your tongue. Come on just--one bite? Please? I’ll be so good for you, Stevie, I swear I’ll be a good-- _ fuck!” _

Steve’s teeth close around Bucky’s throat with a snarl at that, and the words on the tip of his tongue twist into a shuddering yelp as Steve’s fangs, much like a snake’s, begin to pump venom straight into the artery fluttering against his mouth. Liquid fire floods his veins like a raging river, filling every inch of his body with mind-numbing ecstasy so strong it blurs the thin line between pleasure and pain. Bucky’s cock swells all the more as heat spreads from the flat plains of his belly to the slight curve of his hips, dipping down into his groin and pooling inside his heavy balls now aching in time to the rapid beat of his heart. 

But surprisingly, and much to Bucky’s disappointment, Steve doesn’t start to feed on him the way Bucky assumed he would. In fact, Steve doesn’t feed on him at all. He pulls away, leaving Bucky bereft and lost for the fraction of a second it takes for Steve to flip him around and bodily pin his back to the wall. His head is stuffed full of cotton candy and his vision is mostly blurred with unshed tears practically begging to fall, but when Bucky finally gets an eyeful of Steve, the mere sight of him is almost enough to have Bucky shooting off in his pants like he’s sixteen again.

Steve is truly a thing of nightmarish beauty; a demon clad in an angel’s pale skin. The whites of his eyes are now as black as pitch, the blue fire of his irises floating in a deep sea of ink. There’s blood-- _ Bucky’s blood _ \--smeared across his mouth, spilling thickly from between his lips and trickling down his bare chest like the richest of red wines. Steve’s short blond hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up in tufts the way it usually does when Steve’s been wearing the cowl for a while, and the notion of it instantly brings Bucky back to the moment they were reunited in this new century; when Steve quite literally tore through a building full of Hydra agents with nothing but his teeth and his bare hands to aid him. 

He was gorgeous then and he’s gorgeous now, displaying all that raw power in the cut of his naked muscles and the stubborn set of his jaw. Bucky wants to be devoured by this man--this dark creature that strikes fear into the hearts of men with just a single look--would let Steve consume him, body and soul, without a fuss if he really wanted to, and the thought alone turns Bucky’s legs to jelly, has him whimpering against the hand now pressing along the curve of his throat, urging Steve to dig his fingers in and  _ squeeze _ until he’s gasping for more.

And Steve, of course, does just that.

His fingers tighten, cutting off Bucky’s airway just enough to leave him lightheaded and weak. Blood from the bite on his throat curls around Steve’s palm and drips sluggishly down his wrist, and Bucky watches on in awe as Steve’s ravenous gaze tracks the movement of each fat droplet like a wolf stalking a deer; eyes flashing a deep shade of crimson that melts back into ice all too quickly. 

It’s the only warning Bucky gets before their mouths are slotting together in a violent collision of teeth and tongue, bathing the cavern of his mouth in the bitter taste of his own blood. He groans into the kiss and winds his hands into Steve’s hair, pulling and steering Steve’s lips back down to his neck, where Bucky wants him the most. The hand on his throat moves to the collar of his shirt and tugs, tearing at the thick cotton of it as effortlessly as one would shred through tissue paper.

Bucky’s head falls back against the wall, baring his naked chest to his lover without an ounce of fear or hesitation, and greedily, Steve trails his hot tongue over the stiff buds of Bucky’s nipples; nipping and sucking at the plump flesh of his tits while the venom works its way through his veins, turning his spine to molten liquid. 

"F-fu-ck," Bucky hiccups against the tightness in his throat. His body is on fire, set ablaze in a blinding sense of euphoria he's never known until Steve came along. His chest is red and swollen, each pec littered with angry bite marks and forming bruises that won't last the night, yet will linger on in his memory for weeks to come.

Steve’s mouth dutifully trails its way further down, each flick of his tongue fanning the flames in Bucky’s blood a little higher. There's an intense warmth licking at the tips of his fingers, the soles of his feet–the slickened head of his cock weeping fat drops of pre-come down his jean-clad thigh--and it’s getting harder every second for Bucky to hold up his weight on his rapidly weakening legs. 

His jeans soon suffer the same fate as Bucky’s shirt, hastily torn in two the moment Steve runs out of skin to bite at. The scraps of ruined denim fall away in an instant, joining the remnants of Bucky’s shirt on the floor around his feet, and a heady mixture of humiliation and desire lodges itself firmly underneath his ribs, spreading like a blush from cheek to navel as Steve buries his nose into the crease where hip meets thigh.

"I'm going to devour you, my darling," Steve promises with a growl, inhaling the musk of Bucky’s desire deeply. "Swallow you down until there's nothing left. I want it all, Sweetheart. Every ounce you have to give is  _ mine _ , and  _ mine alone." _

"Then take it," Bucky whimpers, his words beginning to slur as if he’s drunk. "Take it all. I'm yours, Stevie. Always have been. Always will be."

"Good boy," is all Steve says in return to that, sneering devilishly as he lifts Bucky by the thighs and throws him over his shoulder; bearing his weight like it's nothing more than a sack of flour.

He's deposited unceremoniously on the bed a moment later, landing with a bounce and melting like ice into the soft silk of the bedclothes underneath him. Steve kneels between his thighs and hooks his hands up under Bucky’s knees, spreading him up and out as far as his hips will go. Steve holds him there effortlessly–knees pressed to his chest and ass propped up by Steve’s thighs–laying Bucky bare to the greed of his hungry mouth once again.

But even as Steve’s fangs scrape along the smooth skin of his inner thighs, drawing little pin drops of blood to the surface, Bucky’s cock remains as neglected as ever; drooling, flushed a deep shade of red, and throbbing in time to the rapid cadence of his heart. Although, when Steve’s becoming lost to the bloodlust like he is now, it's as if Bucky’s cock doesn't exist to him at all.

He always makes Bucky come untouched when he gets like this, far too drunk on the power that comes with Bucky’s submission to care. But Bucky’s not exactly complaining about that either, because when Steve sets his mind to something, he's damn sure going to do everything in his power to see it through. He'll reach deep inside of Bucky and tear his orgasm out of his very soul if that's what it takes, and honestly, Bucky would be lying if he said he didn't want that with every fiber of his being. 

“Can you hold yourself up?” Steve asks, but it’s more rhetorical than anything because, by the time the question’s left his mouth, Bucky’s already complying. He holds position as Steve takes his hand away, clenching his abs and gritting his teeth when the plug nestled inside his ass is replaced with Steve’s thick fingers wet with his own pink-tinged saliva. 

He doesn’t finger Bucky much at first, just tests the give of his sweet little hole, all soft and wet and ready for Steve to fuck full, but then--seeing Bucky as he is, lying so still and plaint on the bed under him, struggling to hold his legs up and nearly failing--it’s like a switch within Steve is flipped. He tightens his grip on Bucky’s leg and spits on his hole, slicking the way as his fingers begin to move; angled up just right and thrusting at a rapid pace that has Bucky’s eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Beautiful,” Steve says, the praise on his tongue offered up as a prayer. Bucky makes a garbled sound far too mangled to be anything coherent, eyes slamming shut and back arching as he struggles to even breathe. It’s too much too soon, the sudden onslaught of sensation on his already frayed nerve endings, but there isn’t a single thing Bucky can do to stop it. 

He’s on the cusp of orgasm embarrassingly fast, and it wouldn’t take much more from Steve to push him over the edge and send him plummeting down into a sea of bliss. But that’s exactly what Steve wants. He needs to wring Bucky dry and leave him limp and sated, fill his veins full of pleasure to make the blood taste better. So it’s no surprise to Bucky that the instant Steve feels his walls clamp down on his fingers, he feels the sharp, indisputable pain of fangs sinking into the meat of his inner thigh.

The pain of the bite entwines with the raw ecstasy of release bursting behind his eyelids like lightning, sending endless waves of intense sensation throughout his trembling body. He thinks he screams out a curse--or maybe it was Steve’s name-- when his cock begins to pulse against his belly, painting his overheated skin in thick streaks of come. All the while, Steve watches him fall apart under heavy lashes, fucking Bucky through the aftershocks as he sucks at the wound on his thigh.

Things get hazy from there, and Bucky loses himself for a long while as he gives himself over to Steve. He feels like his body is floating on a cloud of sugar, his mind submerged in honey. He’s not sure when Steve let go of his thigh to latch onto his neck, and he doesn’t know how he ended up cradled in Steve’s arms--straddling a set of thick thighs with an even thicker cock working its way inside his ass. He gasps when Steve bottoms out, swallowing around the lump in his throat that might actually be Steve’s mouth sucking the essence from his bones. 

His heart flutters against the strain, and a heavy sense of panic begins to make itself known as he’s quite literally drained to the brink of death. But somehow, Bucky can’t find the strength to care. He’s stuffed full of cock and pumped to the brim with venom that makes his mind feel like warm jelly, and he couldn’t be more content about it if he tried. Steve will stop before the world goes dark. Bucky’s sure of it. He trusts Steve implicitly, and so, his body remains relaxed as he’s used; reveling in the biting grip of Steve’s hands on his hips, moving him like a toy on the impossible girth of his cock.

He sighs as yet another orgasm sparks at the base of his spine, and his vision swims when it wraps around him and pulls him under. Bucky can faintly feel the moment when Steve follows him over the precipice, bathing his velvet soft walls in hot spunk one pulse at a time. It’s almost as if it’s happening to someone else; Bucky a mere spectator to something so sinful it would make the Devil himself blush. But that’s to be expected. It will take hours for Bucky to come down from the clouds, and even longer still until his body regenerates the blood he’s lost to Steve’s little feeding frenzy.

In the back of his mind, Bucky knows he’ll come to in a clean bed with Steve wrapped around him; the blood on his skin washed away and the saturated sheets long since tended to. Steve would never make him witness the carnage firsthand because he knows how often Bucky’s come back to himself to find something similar when Hydra had him. So he lets his eyes flutter shut and drifts away, trusting that when Steve’s had his fill, he’ll set the world right again. Just as he always has.

So yeah, Bucky’s life with Steve does read like a pulp fiction novel, but honestly, he wouldn't trade it for the world. Even if it is only happening inside his head.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear from you ❤


End file.
